


Unexpected Travels

by Zephyrfox



Series: Have Double O, Will Travel [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Doctor Who References, Exasperated Double O Agents, M/M, Making out MMF, Multi, Oblivious James, Oblivious Q, Pining James, Pre-Relationship, Q/OFC/OMC, pre-00Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: James doesn't take rejection well. Q doesn't either. M has a plan, and puts it into action: assigning Bond to guard duty for Q's vacation. It should have been an easy mission - but events have a way of spiraling out of control when Bond is around.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kryptaria and Jaimistoryteller for betaing and encouragement, and any remaining mistakes are my own.

If someone were to ask, Q would say he was happy that Bond had finally stopped lacing their conversations with innuendo, and was treating him with the respect he deserved as a department head. If he were being honest, however, he would have to admit to a certain amount of disappointment. Since accompanying him home from his last conference, Bond had been almost… Standoffish.

Had he really insulted Bond by turning down the blatant offer of a naked Bond in his bed? He found it difficult to credit such a thought — Bond seemed to take any liaison or relationship difficulties in stride. Besides, as exhausted as he had been that night, he would have fallen asleep. That wouldn't have been enjoyable for either one of them.

And that brought him back to the conundrum at hand. What was Bond’s problem, and did he want to do anything about it?

“Sir?” A young man's voice interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Tanner phoned down; you're late for your meeting with M.”

 _Damn._ “Thank you, Yahari. What are you doing answering the phone? Did you lose another bet with Adele?”

Yahari Beckett looked a trifle put out. He was one of Q’s senior technicians, but due to an unfortunate wager with Adele Jacobs, the branch administrative assistant, he’d been stuck with the additional duty of coordinating Q-Branch morale activities. “No, sir. she stepped out for a minute and asked me to cover for her.”

“Oh, I see.” Q stood and began gathering the materials he'd need for his meeting with M to discuss the next quarter’s projects. “Did you send out the email to see if anyone is interested in a department lunch?”

Yahari heaved a sigh. “I’ll get right on that, sir.”

Q smirked. “Next time don't make a bet if you can't afford to lose.”

Yahari just grumbled and pointedly looked at the watch gleaming gold against his dark wrist.

“I'm going, I'm going,” Q said, with a final check that he had all his papers.

“Yes, sir.” Yahari stood aside for him to leave his office. “I'll believe that when you're out the main door of Q Branch.”

“Disrespect and insubordination, that's all I get around here,” Q commented to the room at large as he walked past the main bank of workstations.

He was rewarded by near universal eye rolls and indulgent expressions.

At the main door, he paused. While waiting for it to slide open in response to his badge, he shifted his load to one arm and struck a dramatic pose. “I'm off to beard the lion in his den. If I don't return, remember me to my cats.”

Jane-Marie Dawson looked up from her computer, with mischief lighting her brown eyes. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll make sure they get a good home with mine.”

He grinned at her. “Said the crazy cat lady.”

“Said the crazy cat _man."_ She grinned back.

He shook his head. “Nope. I’ve only got two. I’d need one more to be a crazy cat man.”

“That can be arranged. I know someone with kittens!”

“I can’t hear you!” He stepped out into the hallway, laughing. He certainly didn't need another cat. His two were more than enough, and Helix and Pi might not take to an interloper in their territory.

The door slid closed behind him and he strode towards the lifts with a spring in his step. He was looking forward to the meeting with M. He had a request to make after their meeting, and after the success of his last jaunt, there was no reason for M to say no.

~~~~

  
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Q stared at M, certain that he’d misheard.

At least the rest of their meeting had gone well. He now had authorization and a budget allotted for three of the five projects he had recommended — and they were the ones he had most wanted approval for. The two projects he’d given up were ones that he was sure he could bring back to the table at some point in the future.

“I meant what I said, Quartermaster. Surely you remember what happened on your last excursion.”

Q frowned. His trip to the conference had gone smoothly, except for the bit of bother at the end due to the weather. “The conference went well, and there were no unusual problems, M. There's no reason for you to refuse to let me go to the convention.”

M gave him a look of disbelief. “Quartermaster, do you not realize…”  He stopped suddenly, as if struck by a thought. “Never mind. All right. You may go. Same terms as last time, I suppose?”

Q studied him suspiciously. What had changed M's mind? “Yes.”

M nodded sharply and turned his attention to the paperwork on his desk. “Very well then. I'll ask Miss Moneypenny to handle the arrangements.”

Q frowned. That really wasn't necessary, and not what he’d had in mind. “I can handle my own arrangements.”

“You know you must have at least _some_ security, Quartermaster.” M didn't look up from his paperwork.

“But —”

“Just say ‘thank you,’ Quartermaster. I can still change my mind about letting you go.”

“Thank you, sir.” Q eyed M, but when he was ignored, he simply gave a mental shrug and turned to leave the office. He had plenty of things to get in order down in Q-Branch if he was going to be gone for a week.

As Q opened the door, M said, “Miss Moneypenny, I'd like to see you for a moment,” into the intercom.

Eve was up from her desk and ready to pass Q by the time he stepped through the doorway. “Hello, Eve.”

She smiled at him. “What have you done now, Q?”

“Me?” he answered in a mock injured tone. “What makes you think I've done anything?”

“I know you, remember?” Eve smirked as she slipped past him and through the door he held open.

Q watched until the door closed behind her. Eve was eminently watchable.

Maybe he should forget 007 and turn his attention to her. He mulled that over and shook his head. No. Eve was a lovely person, and she controlled access to M. If he annoyed her, it might affect their working relationship.

He headed back down to his office, dismissing all thoughts of potential liaisons with Eve. M had agreed to let him go. He needed to get ready.  


~~~~

 

  
“M is insane!” Bond shoved the toiletry bag into his carry-on with more force than was strictly necessary. He glared into his locker, then reached in to shove things around.

Adam Peters smirked from his vantage point lounging against the locker room wall. “What's he done this time?”

Bond scowled. “He's sending me to babysit Q at some convention. Me!”

“You protected the Quartermaster before.” Adam raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the basilisk glare Bond shot in his direction.

“I'm supposed to be going on a mission.”

Adam shrugged. “So? Hale will take your place on the mission. None of us is irreplaceable, you know.” Why was Bond fighting this assignment? He was sure Bond would object — vociferously — if M had dared to assign any other Double O this particular protection detail. Bond practically had ‘property of J. Bond, do not touch’ stamped on their Quartermaster.

As if hearing his unspoken question, Bond said, “Q wants nothing to do with me. He's made that abundantly clear.”

Adam fought back a snicker. Q had made his _interest_ in Bond abundantly clear. Had Bond even noticed that none of the Q-branch personnel responded to his flirting anymore? “So? You're tasked with protecting him, not fu—”

“Yes, I _know,”_ Bond interrupted, aiming another glare his way that promised a slow and painful death.

“Do your job, then. You’re a Double O. Act like one.” Adam stared back, hiding his satisfaction that his teasing had landed a few hits.

“Don’t lecture me, Peters,” Bond muttered as he jerked the carry-on to settle its contents. Then he zipped it and swung it over his shoulder.

Adam frowned. Why was Bond being so defensive? Was there more to what was going on between him and the Quartermaster than just sex?

As Bond turned to head out of the locker room, Adam put out a hand to stop him. “Bond. Good luck.”

Bond gave him a measured stare, then nodded. “Thanks.”

Adam sighed as the door swung shut behind Bond. He’d heard talk of shoving the two into a closet and locking the door. Perhaps the idea had some merit.

 

~~~~

 

Q put his bags on the bed and surveyed the hotel room. It was rather small, but he wouldn’t be in it for long. He intended to spend most of his time wandering around the convention and attending panels. He’d been looking forward to this convention for a while.

His protection this trip was Joy Matthews, a promising young agent. After a few years seasoning, she’d probably make Double O. Of course, that meant that she would one day need to have two kills under her belt. And it would mean that another Double O would be dead.

He sighed. That was a sobering thought, and he was on vacation. He shook off the bleak mood. Joy was going to be hovering, but not too close. Hopefully she’d get the chance to enjoy the convention, too. He’d chosen her specifically to be his protection since he knew that she loved science fiction.

The thought of his protection detail brought Bond to mind again. Bond would _hate_ this convention. Well. So what? Bond wasn’t here to disapprove, and Q was going to have fun.

Where to first? He ought to go down to registration and pick up his pass. He checked the schedule on his mobile. There was a panel that he could make if he hurried and the registration queue went quickly.

~~~~

 

The banner over the registration room proclaimed _Welcome to WarpedCon!_ and was, fittingly, a trifle off kilter. Various posters advertising events were taped to the wall. One of them, off to the side, screamed _Experience reality as it was meant to be!_ with the convention’s dates underneath. He’d have to look into what that was all about later.

People thronged the room, almost evenly split between cosplayers and people in regular clothes. At least the cosplayers gave Q something to look at while he waited in the queue to register. He spent some time attempting to identify the costumes he didn’t recognize. It took him a few minutes before he realized that one man was dressed as Avon from _Blake’s 7_ , of all things.

A couple about his age caught his eye. They weren’t in costume, but they were both quite lovely. The man had wavy dark hair, and looked to be a bit taller than Q himself, while the woman had auburn hair that fell just past her shoulders, and was a bit shorter.

He indulged in a brief fantasy involving the two as the queue moved forward and the vagaries of the switchbacks hid them from his view.

If the couple had been attending the convention separately, he might have tried to see if either was interested in an evening or two of fun in bed. Since they were obviously together, he’d have to look elsewhere for opportunities. He wouldn't come between anyone in a relationship.

The queue brought the pair closer for a while, and he nodded to them. They smiled at him, and a spark of interest flared in the woman's eyes. He smiled back, raising an eyebrow. No sense ignoring the possibility. Perhaps they weren’t actually in a relationship. Stranger things had happened.

He lost sight of the couple when they went up to the table for their registration. Then it was his turn, and he ended up at a table on the other side of the room.

The harried staff member barely acknowledged his polite greeting, and nearly snatched his registration form out of his hand. He waited while the woman found his pass, glad that he’d had the foresight to pre-pay.

She handed him the pass, and shouted, “Next!”

He turned away from the table and put the lanyard over his head. The pass fell to hit him mid-chest. Then he stopped short, startled, as he looked up and saw the man and woman from the queue waiting directly in front of him.

“We noticed you noticing us,” the woman said.

Q was taken aback. He'd hoped that he was more discreet. “Erm, sorry?” He kicked himself. What the hell? He was usually more articulate than that.

The woman smiled. “It's all right. In fact” — she blatantly looked him up and down, raking him with her eyes — “If you're interested, _we’re_ interested.”

Both of them? Well now. He had wanted to have some fun at the con. “Say I am interested. But interested in what?”

“Anything you want.” The man’s deep voice caused a shiver to run down Q’s spine.

Q smiled, the lazy sort of smile he’d seen on a certain Double O, once upon a time or two. “I'm intrigued.”

The woman smirked at him. “I'm Helen, this is Zac. Shall we go to the bar and discuss things?”

“I'm Andrew,” he said, giving his cover identity. “I'd like that. After you.”

As he went to follow them, a firm body stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”

He frowned at the unexpected obstacle. Where was Joy? “None of your business.”

Helen and Zac paused, waiting to see if he was all right, and he waved them away. “Go on, I'll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

Disappointment flickered across Helen's face, but Zac nodded in agreement.

Bond’s lip curled in distaste as the two continued on to the bar. He turned back to Q. “What are you doing _here?”_

“It’s my vacation. The question is, what are _you_ doing here?”

Ice blue eyes focused on him with laser intensity. “I’m your security.”

“What about Matthews? She’s supposed to be my security.”

“She’s still a bit green. M assigned me as lead. That’s your question answered. Now answer mine.”

The fact that Bond was here, and working with Joy, meant that M had reneged on their deal for minimum security. Q was going to have words with M later. An overprotective Double O hanging around interfering with his love life was _not_ what he had in mind for his free time.

Bond’s eyes narrowed. “Well? What did you think you were doing? Who are they?”

Q grasped the shreds of his temper. “What business is it of yours? I told you. This is supposed to be my vacation.”

Bond took a step closer and growled, “You don't have to make it so bloody difficult for me to protect you! It’s bad enough there are so many people in costume. We can’t identify them or tell if they’re carrying weapons. And what about those two? You have no idea who they are.”

“So?” Q snapped. “That's why I'm going to talk to them. Satisfied?”

Bond ignored the question. “It's not safe! I won't allow it.”

Q stiffened. _How dare he?_ “It's none of your business.”

“Keeping you safe _is_ my business.”

He stared into Bond’s ice blue eyes, reading the stubbornness. “All right. Fine. But you be professional, and you _don't_ get to control who I speak with.”

With that, he sidestepped around Bond and headed to the bar where Helen and Zac were waiting.

~~~~

 

Bond watched, frustrated, as Q walked towards the bar. What the hell was he doing? He should just let Q be and concentrate on protecting him. Of course, that meant he should be following Q, not standing in the lobby like an idiot. At least he'd already registered and picked up his pass while Q had gone up to his room. He’d even put the lanyard and pass around his neck.

A flash of movement caught his eye as a young man in jeans and a graphic tee walked past him. The brightly coloured badge on his lanyard loudly proclaimed him to be convention staff.

He frowned absently. The young man looked vaguely familiar. Then Bond shook his head. It wasn’t important at that moment. He switched on his radio. “Matthews, heads up. Q is headed to the bar. Keep your eyes on him.”

“Yes, sir.” A young voice crackled over the radio.

Bond restrained himself from rolling his eyes. There was a reason he preferred to work alone. He wasn't looking forward to the next few days.

He looked at the schedule in his hands. He'd need to sit Q down to go over what Q wanted to do for the rest of the convention so that he could coordinate the protection detail.

Q wanted professional? He could be bloody professional.

 

~~~~

 

Q was enjoying the time spent with his new friends, Helen Mitchell and Zac Stone. He’d been surprised at how quickly they had included him in their easy affection for one another.

Helen and Zac had been interested in the same panel he was. After checking the hotel map they headed to the room they needed, where they found three seats toward the back of the room, and settled in to listen.

Q almost jumped when Zac's arm snaked around him and pulled him a bit closer.

Helen, leaning against Zac's other side, flashed him a smile.

Q grinned back, and pressed into Zac's side himself.

He'd managed to get sufficient information from them to run a background check, so he took a moment before the panel to send their names off to Yahari to vet. He'd feel guilty about that, but he was no fool. He was a tempting target for kidnappers.

Unfortunately, Yahari had handed the task off to Jane-Marie. When she texted back that Helen and Zac were clean, she had made a point of mentioning that her friend's kittens were still available. She hadn't given him any details about Helen or Zac, though. He approved. He had no need to know more about them than they wanted to share with him. He ignored the heavy-handed hint about the kittens.

He was once again sandwiched between Helen and Zac at another of the afternoon panels when his mobile chirped again. He pulled it out and opened the messages to see a picture of a mother cat nursing four kittens. He sighed.

Helen leaned close. “Kittens! Are they yours?”

“No, a friend is trying to get me to adopt a kitten. I have two cats already.”

“They’re so adorable, Andrew. Are you sure you don’t want one? How about you, Zac? Want a kitten?”

Zac leaned over, bracing himself with a hand on Q’s knee. “You need to keep her distracted when it comes to cats.” With that, Zac kissed Helen. They shifted, ending up with Helen still kissing Zac, but sitting across Q’s lap.

Helen gave Zac a slight shove, and he backed off. Then she turned to kiss Q.

Well. This particular panel _was_ rather boring.

 

~~~~

 

After the panel, they joined the throng heading for the door. Helen ended up by Q's side, with Zac trailing behind. Once they were out in the hallway, Zac moved up a step and slung an arm around Q.

Q enjoyed the feel of Zac's solid bulk against him, contrasted with Helen's slighter form.

A familiar motion drew his eye. He winked at Bond, and Bond looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

They they joined the queue that was just forming for the next panel. They were holding up the wall along with about 20 other people. More people joined the end of the queue.

There were several other bored couples engaging in differing degrees of public displays of affection. Q snickered mentally. Snogging. He, Helen, and Zac were the only... Triad? Trio? Thrupple? Ew. No. He made a mental note never to use that term ever again. Trio would suffice.

Helen moved from snuggling against his side to lifting her face up to him for a kiss. He certainly didn't object to the PDA.

Some people nearby side-eyed them when Helen leaned away from him and kissed Zac.

He watched them, admiring Zac's technique. His cock twitched. Tonight would definitely be enjoyable.

Zac pulled back from Helen and gave her a nudge in Q’s direction. They both smirked.

Q smirked back, and pulled her close.

Helen’s lips worked their way from his lips to his ear. “Don't look now, but someone’s been watching you. Big, scowly bloke against the wall.”

 _Damn._ She’d spotted Bond. “That's just my security. He’ll be hanging around. Does that bother you?”

Zac chuckled low from his other side. “Not at all. We’re both police.”

He groaned. “Of course you are.”

Helen smiled wickedly. “What's the matter, darling? You have a type?”

“Apparently.”

“You're definitely _his_ type.”

He frowned at Zac. “No, he's not interested in me.”

Zac shot another look at Bond. “Are you sure? He seems rather… invested.”

“Of course I'm sure. There was an offer once, but I wasn't able to take him up on it.” He shrugged. “It seems to have been a one time deal.”

“Huh. Well, we'll make sure you forget about him, then. At least for the rest of the convention.” Helen leaned closer again for another kiss.

 

~~~~

  
There was no question about inviting them back to his room for the night, so he was glad they had invited him to theirs. He just had to let Bond know.

Bond. What the hell was his problem? He wasn't interested, but apparently he didn't want Q to have anyone else's attention either.

He excused himself from Helen and Zac, leaving them after a few more minutes of kissing. He wanted to track Bond down and let him know the plan for that evening.

He found Bond skulking around the outskirts of the room.

“I'm going to be spending the night with Helen and Zac.”

Bond looked at him flatly. “You’re going to be sleeping with both of them?”

Q blinked. That was an odd question coming from Bond. “Of course. You did notice that I've been with both of them all day?”

“I noticed they both had their hands all over you.”

He blew out an annoyed breath at the petulant tone. He really didn't want to deal with Bond, or whatever Bond’s problem was.

“I've had them checked out. They're both clean. Contact Yahari if you have any questions.”

A muscle jumped in Bond's cheek. “Fine.”

He studied James for another moment, then nodded. “Fine.”

 

~~~~

 

Bond’s hands clenched into fists as he watched his quartermaster go off to an assignation. He shoved down his seething jealousy and went to find Matthews. She could take the first night shift.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s just an average science fiction convention. The Quartermaster is having a great time, but his Double O bodyguard isn’t too sure about it. With some teasing and a faintly familiar face that seems out of place, Bond is definitely on edge.

 

Bond watched the threesome a few tables over, hiding his glower behind his coffee cup. Did they really have to be so… affectionate… with each other?

Q, Stone, and Mitchell were eating breakfast in the hotel restaurant, at a table crowded with other convention attendees. The number of people at the table surrounding Q made Bond itch to pull his Quartermaster away, certainly not the fact that Mitchell looked happy to be ensconced on Q’s lap, and Stone was close enough to Q that their hips must be touching on the bench seat.

Bond set his cup on the table with deliberate care as Mitchell kissed Q. She came up for air to accept a bite of food that Stone offered. While she was chewing, Stone took the opportunity to kiss Q.

Bond gritted his teeth.

“They’re cute together, aren’t they?” A plate of food landed on the table, almost spilling his coffee, as Matthews slid into the chair next to him.

“Oops, sorry.” She didn’t sound apologetic at all.

He turned, ready to snarl at her and stared, incredulously, instead. “What the hell are you wearing?”

She had on a scarlet frock coat over a white blouse with a cravat and an ivory waistcoat. Her light tan trousers were tucked into tall brown suede boots.

Matthews smiled impishly. “I’m Romana II.”

He just stared. He had no idea what that meant.

She rolled her eyes. “The second incarnation of Romanadvoratrelundar, played by Lalla Ward. Romana I was played by Mary Tamm, but I didn’t think I could pull off one of her outfits.”

“You…” Bond was at a loss for words. Who the hell wore a costume while on a protection detail? The idea was to fade into the background, not stand out.

She raised a brow at him and calmly ate a piece of bacon.

He shook his head and tried again. “You’re wearing a _costume.”_

“Yes.”

_“Why?”_

She rolled her eyes again, reminding him just how damn young 23 was these days.

“We’re at WarpedCon. It’s a science fiction convention. If anything, being in costume — it’s called ‘cosplay,’ by the way — is less conspicuous than, oh, say,” she eyed him, “wearing a suit.”

He bristled at the implied insult. “This is a Tom Ford suit!”

“Yes, and it’s fine if you’re at a dinner party or something. But for an assignment like this? Come on, James. You stick out like a sore thumb. Get into the spirit of things!” She paused, with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “You never know. You might even impress the Quartermaster.”

Bond fumed. He didn’t need to be schooled in how to blend in by a _child._

Matthews heaved a sigh and patted his arm. “Don’t worry about it too much. Everyone here just thinks my dad is overprotective.”

“Your _dad!?”_ He stared at her in disbelief. “There’s no way anyone could think —”

Her eyes widened and she shoveled the last bit of food into her mouth before standing hastily. “Q is on the move. I’ll go after him.”

She was off before he could stop her. A few steps away she turned back with a grin and waved. “Bye, Dad! I’ll see you later!”

 

~~~~

 

Joy leaned against the wall, waiting for the Quartermaster, watching the ebb and flow of people crowding the hallway, making their way from one panel or event to another. There was no discernible traffic pattern, just people walking up or down the hallway, seemingly at random. She had spent the morning watching Q and enjoying listening to the panels that he attended.

When Q emerged from the doglegged exit across from her, his nose wrinkled in mild disgust, he was nearly swept into the throng. He managed to fight his way against the tide until he reached a relatively clear area by the wall and made his way toward her. As he approached, she dug a bottle out of her pocket. “Hand sanitizer?”

“Yes, please.” Q took the small bottle with a nod of thanks and squeezed a dollop of gel onto his palm. She took the bottle back and put into her pocket while he rubbed the sanitizer into his hands. Then he studied her, his eyes flicking to different points on her clothes. “You did an excellent job on your outfit.”

Joy stood a little straighter. The Quartermaster wasn’t one for meaningless praise. “Thank you! Romana has always been one of my favorites. Jane-Marie helped me pull it all together.”

“In that case, you both did well. Would you like me to take a picture to send her?”

“That would be great, thank you!” Jane-Marie had been disappointed that she couldn’t come to the convention this weekend. Joy would need to come up with something nice to bring back to make it up to her friend.

Q held up his mobile and aimed it at her while she posed. “There. I’ll text it to you. Are you enjoying your assignment? Bond's not being too much of a bear, is he?” Q’s mouth quirked into a smile of commiseration as he asked.

“Yes, It's a great assignment.” She tilted her head and smiled. “Bond has been fine, really, though. Quite the gentleman. You don’t need to worry.”

“Oh. Erm, good. That’s… good.” Dismay flashed across Q’s face before he shrugged. “I have no idea why M assigned him. Bond isn't into science fiction.”

She had a good idea of why M had assigned Bond. Well, she suspected, at any rate. She couldn't tell the Quartermaster her theory, though.

“Do you know what he _is_ into?” She thought that was an innocent question until she saw the blank mask drop over Q's face. He’d obviously been spending too much time around the agents.

“I wasn’t aware that you were interested in Bond,” Q said, his voice flat.

 _Crap._ Joy thought quickly, trying find a way to rescue the situation. “No, of course I'm not. I just wondered if you knew. I mean, you know what he's _not_ into…” she let her sentence trail off, wondering if she was just digging herself in deeper. Q looked barely mollified, so she cast around for another subject. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself with Helen and Zac.”

Q studied her again before replying, still somewhat cool. “I am. They’re good people.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, they are. I’d like to meet them, if there’s time and I’m not on duty, of course.”

Q relaxed a bit. Hopefully she had convinced him that she had no interest in Bond. She decided to ask him another question about Helen and Zac, just in case. “Are you planning on seeing them after the con?”

“Why, Agent Matthews — are you interested in my lovers?” Q asked with an arched brow. “You are. You’re blushing.”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she indignantly protested, “I am not!” even as she felt the warmth flooding her cheeks.

Mercifully, Q let her off the hook with a chuckle. “I don’t blame you, Joy. They are quite interesting. Now, I think it’s time for me to get back to them. Will you walk with me, or would you prefer to sneak around?”

Joy laughed. “I’ll walk with you, until you meet up with them. Oh! I just remembered. I had an idea I wanted to talk to you about. It’s about Bond and his suits.”

Q looked intrigued. “Tell me more, Agent Matthews.”

She grinned. “You’re going to love this!”

 

~~~~

 

Bond stood near the escalators, his eyes constantly in motion as he waited for Q. He was still trying to wipe the incident at breakfast from his memory. He did _not_ look old enough to be Matthews’ father. She had sent him a text saying that Q wanted to meet him there while he had been patrolling the convention, keeping an eye out for threats. He huffed. Threats. Everywhere he looked there was someone in a costume with a toy gun that could be real.

The staff member he’d noticed earlier walked into view from behind a pair of people dressed as Stormtroopers. _Cosplayers,_ as Matthews would no doubt say. At least they were wearing one costume he could recognize from a movie.

The man was about to pass by him. The vaguely familiar face once again teased his memory. He took the opportunity to take a discreet photo of the man by focusing his mobile’s camera on the Stormtroopers who were now several steps behind his target.

After making sure that the man was identifiable in the picture, he attached it to an email and sent it to Q Branch so they could run it through facial recognition. He added a request for one of the boffins on duty to expedite it and send him the results as soon as possible.

He looked around, concern niggling at him. Where was Q? Shouldn’t he be here by now?

Another of the _Experience reality as it was meant to be!_ posters caught his eye. They seemed to be all over the place. This one had a retro-style family with VR goggles and gloves, sitting in a living room on one side of the poster with a space battle taking place on the other.

“Ah, there you are.”

Q’s voice came from behind him, and he turned, relieved.

His Quartermaster looked relaxed and ridiculously young in dark trousers and a maroon shirt, with hair that fluffed out and showed no sign of Q’s normal attempts to keep it controlled with gels and hairspray.

Q studied him in turn. “Hmm… Joy was right.”

Bond frowned. Matthews was right about _what?_ Q had better not mention the dad thing, or he’d retaliate with a comment about spotty youths.

“Give me your pocket square.”

“Why?”

“Just give it to me. And here —” Q handed him a pair of RayBan sunglasses. “Put these on.”

“You want me to wear sunglasses inside?” Bond wanted confirmation that he’d heard correctly. Where was Q going with this?

“Yes.” Q reached out and plucked the apparently offending pocket square from its accustomed place and tucked it into one of his own pockets. Then he took a silver pen and slipped it into the newly empty pocket, clipping it so the pen’s top part remained visible.

“There,” Q said with satisfaction.

Long, nimble fingers that were perfect for tinkering with gadgets lingered for a moment on Bond’s chest. He stared down in bemusement, and then was caught by the hazel eyes looking up at him.

Q colored a bit, his lips twitching into a slight smile, and with a final pat to Bond’s chest, stepped back, his hand falling away to his side. Then he tilted his head, studying Bond. With a slight frown, he took the sunglasses back and put them on Bond’s face. “Keep these on.”

Bond took them off again. “No. I need to see clearly.”

Q heaved a sigh. “All right. But keep them in your pocket and pull them out frequently. Put them on, take the neuralyzer —”

“The what?”

“Aim the red LED towards people, and press the button. When it flashes, say something like, ‘Aliens don’t exist,’ and then you can put them back in your pocket. Say you’re Agent Kay from MIB.”

“Agent Kay? MIB?” Was Q making this up?

Q shook his head, a look of supreme disappointment on his face. “We’ll have to fill in those gaps in your education when we get back.”

“Q…”

“Just look humourless. That shouldn’t be a stretch for you.”

That remark stung.  

“Remember to put the sunglasses on first.” Q took the sunglasses out of his hand and put them on, then filched the… gadget… back.

Q turned a bit, scanning the room, until he stopped to focus on a group a short distance away. “May I have your attention, please? Look this way.”

Two people turned around, grinned at him, and elbowed the others in their group. Then they all looked attentively at Q.

Q held the gadget up vertically, aiming the LED towards the group. Then he pressed the button, and there was a bright flash. “Nothing to see here, folks. It was just swamp gas. Move along.”

The group stood still until Q was done speaking, then exaggeratedly blinked their eyes and looked around for a moment. Then they laughed and waved at Q before going back to talking to each other.

“How did they know to do that?”

Q grinned. “They’ve seen the movie.”

“Andrew! Come on, the panel is about to start.”

It was Mitchell, waving at Q, standing with Stone’s arm around her.

Q turned and waved, then turned back to hand him the silver pen and sunglasses. “I’ve got to get going. I know you’re here to protect me, but you can try to have a little fun at least.”

Bond nodded, then watched as Q walked over to Mitchell and Stone.

Stone leaned down to give Q a quick kiss before the three went around the corner, out of view.

Bond gritted his teeth, attempting once more to wrestle down his entirely inappropriate feeling of jealousy.

 

~~~~

 

Joy shoved her hair back behind her ear. She wasn’t used to leaving her long blonde hair hanging loose. Normally she braided it and tucked the end back up under the rest. Maybe she should just cut it short. That way she wouldn’t have to deal with it while on a mission. She could always wear a wig if she needed long hair.

She split her attention between the Quartermaster and his two lovers and Bond. She had no regrets over teasing Bond at breakfast.

He might be a fish out of water at the con, but he inhabited his suit like it was a second skin as he prowled through the crowds.

She needed to learn how to move like that. Bond was one of the best Double O’s and would be an ideal mentor — although he might not have the patience to put up with a trainee. Still, she was determined to be a Double O someday, and would have to settle for what tips she could pick up by observation.

In the meantime, she watched. She was pleased to see that Q had taken her suggestion to give Bond a pair of sunglasses and a silver prop. At least when people saw them, they didn’t give Bond a second look.

Unfortunately, Q’s opportunity to talk Bond into taking the pen and sunglasses hadn’t resulted in a new understanding between the two. She shook her head. Bond and the Quartermaster were acting like idiots. Men. Honestly. It didn't look like M’s plan would work, even with her impromptu assistance. Although, she didn’t blame Q in the slightest for his liaison with Helen and Zac. They both looked yummy.

“Excuse me?”

She turned to see an older woman, dressed as General Leia Organa. “Yes, ma’am?”

The woman smiled. “Is that your father as Agent Kay?”

Various responses crossed her mind before she settled for a simple, “Yes, he is.”

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear this about your father, but he’s gorgeous. I couldn't help noticing that he’s not wearing a wedding ring…” The woman trailed off, raising a brow expectantly.

Joy blinked. If she set Bond up with anyone other than the Quartermaster, her career at 6 could be measured in hours after the word got out. Maybe she did kind of regret teasing him at breakfast.

 

~~~~

 

Joy and Bond were at the restaurant again, watching Q eating a late lunch a few tables away.

“What’s wrong, James?” Joy asked as Bond frowned down at his mobile.

“I sent a photo to Q Branch for identification.” He held up the mobile showing a picture of one of the convention staff. “They had no luck.”

“Maybe he doesn’t exist?” She winced internally at her flip words. She wanted Bond to take her seriously, despite the brief bout of teasing earlier. At least he hadn’t mentioned it since.

Bond didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t know. He looks familiar, but I don’t remember who he is — or perhaps he just looks like someone from my past.”

Joy stopped Bond from putting his mobile away and studied the picture. The man was young, with short brown hair, wearing jeans and a Red Dwarf t-shirt. She looked up, meeting Bond’s ice blue eyes. “You think he’s dangerous.”

Bond shrugged, an irritated movement that looked more like an attempt to resettle his shoulder harness under his suit coat.

Joy narrowed her eyes as she realized that Bond’s attention had been caught by their Quartermaster and his two lovers. The trio were talking loudly and gesturing during an animated conversation with the others at their table.

Bond wasn’t an alarmist. When he reacted with his gut he tended to be right — as well as destructive.

She gnawed her lip. What would Bond do? Not now, when he was guarding Q, but what would he do if this were another mission? “Are you staying here to watch over Q?”

She fought to keep the smirk off her face at his cautious nod. “I’ll go poke around a bit, see if I can turn up anything.”

Bond looked at her steadily, as if trying to figure out her motivation. “All right. Be back in two hours and we’ll switch off.”

Joy smiled. _Excellent._ “I’ll see you then.”

She had a bit of a spring in her step as she left the restaurant.

 

~~~~

 

Joy’s plan was perfect in its simplicity. She brushed against an overworked staffer and swiped his volunteer badge, giving her an illusion of legitimacy as she wandered around the con. Then she skulked around the area where Bond had last seen the target.

She caught sight of him entering a door marked, “private: staff only.” She had already purchased a pair of Tardis earrings for Jane-Marie, and had moved on to comparing several necklaces at a booth near the escalators. She put the one she was holding down with regret. Its pendant was a Tardis key from the 7th Doctor's era. As much as she loved David Tennant, she was a Classic Who girl at heart.

After double checking that her badge — _Volunteer, ask me for help!_ — was clipped to her lapel, she headed to the door.

She was a bit put out when she realized the door was locked. After glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention, she slipped her lockpick kit from one of her pockets, blessing her forethought in choosing to cosplay Romana II. The coat might be a bit too warm, but its voluminous pockets were quite useful.

Unfortunately, after unlocking the door and stepping inside, she nearly walked into a man on the other side, and lost her grip on the lockpicks.

The man had been reaching for the doorknob, and looked just as surprised to see her as she was surprised to see him.

She smiled brightly and babbled in the best tradition of _Doctor Who._ “Hello! Lovely convention, don't you think? I'm enjoying it immensely. I was actually looking for the loo. I don't suppose you could —”

The man’s eyes dropped to the floor where her lockpicks had fallen, then snapped back up to her face, his eyes narrowing in anger.

_Oh shit._

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joy needs to get out of her predicament, and Bond has to join forces with Q, Helen, and Zac to find her. And maybe, just maybe, Bond might learn a thing or two about his Quartermaster.

 

Joy’s eyes widened, and she took a step back — too late. Thick fingers grabbed her cravat and yanked, a sharp tug that pulled her close enough to smell his sour breath before he spun her around and pinned her against his chest. She gasped for breath, digging her fingers into the arm that was tightening around her throat in a fruitless attempt to pry it away.

“Not one sound.” His voice was harsh in her ear. The man shifted his grip enough to lock the door, then he produced a large knife from somewhere and pressed it against her throat in place of his arm. She swallowed, feeling a bright spark of pain where the metal bit into her throat at the pressure.

The man laughed, a sharp, nasty sound. “You see? I’ve got no problem cutting your throat. Now, start walking. That way.”

She stumbled a bit when the man moved the knife away from her throat and gave her a shove to get her moving in the right direction. She twisted around and shot him an indignant glare.

He brandished the knife at her before she could say anything. “Keep your mouth shut.”

She stayed silent, as much as she hated the idea of being dictated to by this creep. She had only planned on following the man Bond had been suspicious about to see if she could identify him. She hadn’t planned on getting caught. There was a good chance that this man was working with her target, so she would be getting that information right from the source. If he wasn’t, well… The man was obviously part of something illegal, so it was up to her to learn more.

They stopped a short distance down the hall, at a utility room. She swept the small room with her eyes as they entered, but there was no sign of her target among the industrial sized washers and dryers.

Her captor shifted without warning and slammed her against the wall. Joy gasped at the sudden shock, finding herself staring up into cold steel blue eyes. Then the man shifted his grip to to hold her wrists one-handed, grinding the bones together. She winced, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of making a sound. His other hand pawed at her, rooting through her pockets. She gritted her teeth.

The man found her mobile and dropped it to the floor. Then he placed one large boot-covered foot over it and pressed down. The crunch of the delicate electronics had her wincing again. That was an expensive phone — and it wasn’t hers. She had signed it out with the rest of her equipment. Then her heart sank as her earwig shared the same fate. Even if Bond contacted Q branch when he realized she was missing, they couldn’t track her. She was on her own.

After that, the man wound a coarse rope around her wrists, tying her hands in front of her. He obviously didn’t think of her as a threat. Hope flared. And had he really overlooked her pistol? She’d had Jane-Marie modify it so it looked more than a bit like a generic sci fi ray gun, so perhaps he thought it was just another mock weapon. Then his heavy hand on her shoulder guided her to a corner, where she was forced to sit, her legs stretched out in front of her.

The man crouched down, taking the badge from her lapel. He smirked. “Well, Miss Volunteer, you’ve volunteered to be in the wrong place.”

She lifted her chin and glared. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

“Chuck?”

The man turned around, scowling at the door. “You shut your gob, Albie.”

“What are you talking about, Chuck?” Her target — Albie — walked into the utility room. His eyes went wide when he spotted her. “Who’s she?”

“I don’t know. I caught her breaking in. And now she knows my name, thanks to you. Stay here and keep an eye on her. Don’t talk to her. I still need to take care of”  — He broke off, with a glance back at Joy — “what I need to do.”

Albie nodded. “Sure, Chuck.”  Then he winced. “Sorry, Chuck, I mean —”

Chuck’s fists clenched in fury, but he visibly reined in his temper. “Just button your lip and keep it buttoned, Albie. I’ll be back soon.”

Joy and Albie watched Chuck leave. Then Albie walked over to her, leaning over to check the rope binding her wrists, so she kicked up at him, hiding a smirk when he jumped back.

He scowled, then turned his back his back on her to take a seat by the door. He pulled out his mobile and began to play a game.

Joy watched him for a few moments, until she was sure he was completely engrossed in his game. She surreptitiously twisted her arms, testing the ropes, to see if there was any give that would allow her to get free. Hopefully Albie would stay distracted. Once she was free, she would take him down and contact the police to get him and Chuck arrested.

 

~~~~

 

Q sat in the bar with Helen and Zac, going over the convention schedule for the next day. So far, they were each interested in different panels the next morning, in different areas of the hotel, which meant — “It looks like we’ll have to split up for a few hours in the morning.”

“Andrew?” Helen tapped his shoulder.

“Hmmm?” Q didn’t look up. He was focused on his mobile, studying the schedule.

“Andrew.” This time it was Zac who nudged him.

He looked up at them, blinking. “What is it?”

“Your bodyguard is on his way over here.” The corners of Helen’s hazel eyes crinkled in amusement. “He looks delightfully growly.”

“You have an odd definition of delightful, Helen,” Q said as he looked in the direction she indicated. Sure enough, Bond was approaching, face decidedly grim. He stood and met Bond halfway. “What’s wrong?”

Bond’s eyes flicked over him in a familiar pattern — checking him for injuries. Honestly. He’d only been with Helen and Zac since the last time Bond had seen him. There was no reason for him to be injured. Then those arctic blue eyes locked on his. “Have you seen Matthews?”

He thought back. He’d last seen Joy… Ah. “At lunch, sitting with you. Not since then.”

Bond muttered a curse. “She was supposed to switch off with me half an hour ago.”

Alarm stabbed him. Joy wouldn’t go out of contact without alerting one of them first. “She’s been missing two and a half hours then?”

“Yes.” A flick of Bond’s eyes to one side accompanied the terse response.

Q turned, somehow unsurprised to see Helen and Zac approaching, their expressions a mix of curiosity and determination.

“Anything we can help with?” Helen looked from Bond to Q. Zac loomed behind her, providing silent support.

“Our colleague has gone missing.”

Bond shot him a sharp glance, disapproving of him sharing information with Helen and Zac, no doubt.

“And you can’t report it to the police?” Helen guessed, one brow arching in question.

A muscle in Bond’s jaw twitched. “No.”

“Before we go any further, allow me to introduce DCI Helen Mitchell and Detective Constable Zac Stone.” Q interrupted, before Bond said anything about _police_ and _useless,_ and then he turned to his lovers. “And this is —”

“Bond. James Bond.” A stoic mask accompanied the bitten off words. Bond sounded curt rather than his usual suave delivery.

“Yes. Well. My bodyguard.” Q glanced at Bond wryly. “Joy Matthews is my other bodyguard. She’s the one missing.”

“I’ve contacted — ” Bond’s eyes slid towards Helen and Zac, “ — work… Her phone and earwig aren’t showing anywhere.

“We can help you look for her.” Helen said, her face serious. “That sort of thing is our day job, after all.”

“That’s a good idea, thank you, Helen,” Q agreed quickly, in case Bond decided to refuse. “The four of us searching will cause less of a fuss than getting more security or police involved.”

He eyed Bond, mentally urging his agent to agree.

Bond merely heaved a long-suffering sigh. “By all means, join in. The more the merrier.”

Of course Bond would be a sarcastic shit. Q hissed, “Behave!”

Bond shot him a disgruntled look, but subsided. “We appreciate your assistance.”

“She’s the young lady that was wearing the Romana II outfit, correct? Do you have a photo of her?” Zac asked.

Bond’s eyebrows rose, and he muttered, “How the hell did he know that?” in an aside to Q.

“A decent education in popular culture,” Q said absently as he brought up his mobile. After a few swipes, he pulled up the picture he had taken of Joy earlier that day. “Sent.”

Three chirps sounded, and the other three pulled out their mobiles. Bond checked to make sure he had the photo and tapped on his phone, while Helen and Zac studied their copies.

Bond made a small noise of satisfaction deep in his throat, and held up his mobile. “She was going to keep an eye on this man. I’ve seen him around, but I haven’t been able to ID him.”

Helen studied the image on Bond’s mobile, then she looked up to meet Bond’s eyes. “You think he had something to do with Ms. Matthews’ disappearance?”

Bond hesitated.

Q frowned. It was unlike Bond to appear less than certain about anything, even if he _was_ less than certain about it. Maybe even _especially_ when he was less than certain about something.

“It’s possible. Again, I can’t place the man — but something about him sets off warning bells.”

Zac quirked a knowing grin at Helen and then nodded. “We understand. Sometimes your gut knows best.”

 

~~~~

 

They separated naturally into two pairs, and began questioning people around the area where Joy had last been seen. They hadn’t had much luck.

Q had insisted on separating further, over Bond’s protests. But eventually the Double O had given in, and they had each taken a side of the open area around the escalator. They were questioning the salespeople behind their tables full of merchandise, in the hopes that one of them had seen Joy.

Q was just turning toward a table laden with sci fi themed jewelry when a quiet voice stopped him.

“Excuse me.” A woman, dressed in a rebel uniform with her hair braided like General Organa’s, stood watching him. “You’re looking for Agent Kay’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Q bit his cheek to hold back a snicker. Bond would never live that one down. “Yes, I am. You’ve seen her?”

“The last time I saw her was when she went through that door,” The General pointed to a door that was almost obscured by the crowd. “I think she had a key, although it looked to me like she was having trouble with the lock.”

“Thank you for the information, ma’am. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” She leaned closer and said with a suggestive smile, “If Agent Kay would like to thank me personally, I’m available for a date.”

Q floundered a bit, unsure of how to handle the blatant flirting on Bond’s behalf. He decidedly did _not_ want to set Bond up with a date, but… Bond obviously was no longer interested in him.

“Let him know I’ll be around in the bar later.” She winked, then stepped away to head towards another table.

 

~~~~

 

Bond frowned. Q was staring after an oddly dressed woman. He walked over and leaned down to whisper in Q’s ear. “Who was that?”

Q jumped, startled, and blinked owlishly from behind his glasses. Q flushed as he said, “She gave me a clue. Joy picked the lock on that door. She said she thought Joy had a key, and had trouble with the lock, but…” Q shrugged.

Why had Q blushed? Was he interested in that woman? Bond shoved those thoughts away to deal with later, and nodded. “Lockpicks. I agree. Well then. Let’s get your… friends…. and go find Matthews.”

Q nodded, and dug out his phone. “I’ll text them to meet us here.”

“All right.”

 

~~~~

 

Mitchell and Stone joined them a few minutes later, and after a quick explanation, they headed to the door Q’s informant had pointed them to.

Bond slipped out his lockpicks and made quick work of the door’s lock. If Matthews had had enough difficulty with the lock that someone had noticed, then she needed more practice. Maybe he’d give her some pointers when this was over.

As he opened the door, Stone’s voice broke into his thoughts. “We could arrest you for breaking and entering, you know.”

He didn’t bother to look back at the other man. All of his attention was on the hallway, senses straining, alert for any hint that someone other than them was in the hall.

“Zac, behave!” That was Mitchell. Bond ignored her, too.

Then Q spoke up. “We’re on the right track.”

That got Bond’s attention. He turned to look at his Quartermaster. “What makes you say that?”

Q knelt, picking up something that glittered on the floor. “This is Joy’s. I recognize the brooch; Jane-Marie was modifying it for lockpicks last week. Joy wasn’t wearing it this morning, it wouldn’t have fit with her cosplay. She must have had it in her pocket.”

Bond glanced at the gem-encrusted brooch. Gaudy, but it wouldn't be out of place on an expensive gown. “You’ve never given _me_ lockpicks hidden in a jeweled brooch.”

Q slanted a sly grin at him. “I’ll make you a set in a belt buckle. Somehow I doubt that a brooch would be your style.”

As Bond was about to answer, he noticed that Mitchell and Stone were watching the exchange with interest. Instead of the reply that was on the top of his tongue, he said, “Let's get going. We need to find Matthews.”

Q’s face fell. “Of course.”

Bond frowned slightly. Why did Q suddenly look dejected? It’s not as though their banter meant anything, after all. Q wasn’t interested in him. He shrugged and turned to lead the way down the hall. He felt faintly ridiculous, and maybe a bit uncomfortable, having a group following him as his backup. Normally, a group of people following him were actively shooting at him.

 

~~~~

 

Chuck had returned from his mysterious errand before she could get free. He and Albie pulled up chairs to a small table and were dividing their attention between her and their mobiles. She wasn’t sure what the two men were waiting for, but she couldn’t do much with both of them taking turns watching her.

How long had she had been sitting there? At least a couple hours. Bond had to be searching for her by now. She needed to escape — soon. It would never do for her to still be tied up when he found her.

“Hey!” Joy raised her voice. “It’s been hours. I still need to use the loo.”

Chuck glared at her. “I told you to be quiet.”

“But I need to go. What do you expect me to do?”

“Cross your legs.” Chuck laughed at her, unpleasant and derisive, and turned his chair away, pointedly ignoring her.

Albie looked from her to Chuck with a confused expression, before he, too, turned away from her.

She smiled to herself, and then carefully worked the ring off her finger. If it fell to the floor, she might not be able to find it again. Fortunately, part of an agent’s training was to practice escaping with their hands bound behind their back — and hers were tied in front. Escaping should be easy, as long as Chuck and Albie weren’t paying attention. _Aha._ The ring dropped into her waiting palm, and she used her fingernails to tease out the tiny saw hidden inside the band.

 _Damn._ It wouldn’t straighten fully. Still, she tried to work it in between the strands of rope binding her wrists as best she could. She needed patience. It would take a while for the tiny saw to cut through the rope.

Several strands of rope parted. She looked up at the two men, checking to see if they still were ignoring her. _Good._ They were talking now, too quietly for her to overhear, and looking at one of the mobiles. It would be easy for her to get the drop on them after she cut the ropes binding her. She smirked, and continued her efforts to free herself while planning in next steps in her bid for freedom.

 

~~~~

 

Bond heard sounds of a scuffle coming from the open door ahead. He shoved Q back into Mitchell and Stone, and sprinted towards the sounds, drawing his Walther as he ran.

The sound of fighting ceased as he got to the door. He stopped beside it, pressing his shoulder into the doorframe, and prepared to pivot around to peer into the room to get a look at the situation before he charged in. Contrary to Q's constant complaints over their comms, he did know how to look before he leaped when going into an unknown situation.

He was sure that he’d find Matthews injured or dead, poor kid. He darted a look through the door – and froze. Q, Mitchell, and Stone caught up by the time he was able to get himself to move again. He spared them no notice. They probably weren’t happy with his attempts to slow them down and keep his Quartermaster out of danger.

He entered the room, his eyes flicking around the room, noting the industrial washers and dryers, the cart full of dirty linens, and the overturned table and chairs. And there, in the middle of the room, stood Matthews.

She turned her head with a cheeky smile, her eyes sparkling. “What kept you?”

Her… pistol? was aimed at two men lying on the floor.

“Are you all right, Joy?” Q asked, coming into the room and edging around Bond. Mitchell and Stone followed him.

“I’m fine, but I would appreciate it if one of you could restrain these two and contact the police.”

Stone moved forward, accepting a pair of handcuffs from Mitchell, and knelt beside one of the men to handcuff him.

Bond looked askance at Mitchell. “You carry your cuffs with you when you’re off duty?”

Mitchell shrugged, her face all innocence. “You never know when they might come in handy.”

“That’s very true.” Stone shifted, moving on to use his own cuffs on the other man on the floor.

“Do you have jurisdiction here, or do we need to contact the local police?” Q asked Mitchell.

“We can caution them, and the locals will caution them again.”

Stone grinned, and started the familiar recitation while Mitchell rang the police.

Bond rolled his shoulders and holstered his Walther. Matthews saw, and followed suit. _Good._ Local police tended to get… odd… around agents carrying weapons. It was worse when those weapons were in full view.

 

~~~~

 

Bond needn't have worried. Once the local police had spoken to Mitchell and Stone, they relaxed around him and Matthews.

The police had cordoned off the area around the hallway, and then bundled all five of them into one of the suites for questioning. In the words of the DCI in charge — “You’ve all had plenty of time for collusion. Putting you in separate rooms is rather like shutting the barn door after the horse has been stolen.”

Chuck and Albie had been led away by a pair of young Police Constables. Bond still had no idea who Albie reminded him of. Some old enemy of his, but Albie was too young to be one of them. A relative, perhaps? He huffed a bit, and turned to watch Q and Matthews talking with Stone in the suite’s sitting area. Stone had pulled a chair close to the sofa that Q and Matthews shared. Mitchell was speaking with DCI Reece in another room.

Matthews had done well, all things considered. Perhaps he should take an interest in her training. After all, if she was assigned to protect his Quartermaster again, he wanted to make sure she was ready for anything.

The door to the suite opened. Mitchell entered and strode to the sitting area after a glance at him, clocking his location in the room. “We’ve worked out what Joy stumbled on. Chuck and Albie were hired by two designers that worked for DVR.”

“DVR?” Wasn’t that the new version of a VCR?

Mitchell turned to him. “Deering Virtual Reality. They’re the ones who are demoing the virtual reality device on the last day of the con. You’ve seen the posters, right?”

“I think everyone’s seen those posters, Helen,” Q said, “they’re everywhere. The VR device is supposed to be beyond cutting edge. I have to admit, I’m intrigued.”

Of course Q would be interested in a technological advance.

Mitchell smiled at Q, Matthews, and Stone. “Then you’ll be glad to know that Joy interrupted a scheme to steal the device. Apparently the designers disputed some of the company’s decisions on the device’s development, and wanted to embarrass the company and make some money at the same time. Once Chuck and Albie stole it for them, they were going to sell it to the highest bidder.”

“How valuable —” The door opened before Bond could finish his question.

DCI Reece entered with two other men, both dressed in what passed for ‘business casual’ in tech circles, following him. Chaos reigned for the next few minutes as the two men began speaking, both at the same time. The DCI stood to the side of the room, next to Bond, watching. He caught Bond’s eye and gave an embarrassed grimace. Finally, one of the men deferred to the other.

“I’m Tom Deering, this is my brother Mark. We wanted to thank you for keeping our VR-1 safe.”

“Yes, and DCI Reece said you were off duty police, so you wouldn’t take a monetary reward, but what we’d like to do is give you —”

Tom glared at his brother, and interrupted. “First crack at testing our device tomorrow, before we unveil it.”

Q’s eyes gleamed with interest. “That sounds like an excellent proposition, thank you.”

Matthews was grinning manically, and Stone nudged Mitchell and whispered, “That will be so much fun!”

Bond hated to admit it, but he might be somewhat interested in the idea of testing out the equipment as well.

 

~~~~

 

Bond leaned against the rear wall of the control booth, observing his Quartermaster and the others playing the virtual reality game. He’d had a go at it earlier, while Matthews watched, and then they had switched out. Q had tried to insist that both Bond and Matthews play at the same time, but Bond had reminded the Quartermaster that they needed to ensure that he was protected.

The other three had kept playing as he and Matthews switched. Bond didn’t blame them. It was a damn interesting game, and while the VR-1 didn’t quite live up to the hype, it came close.

The four in the VR chairs wore helmets that were light, with a separate screen for each eye, and earphones that had a separate sound channel for each ear. The screens were offset enough to give an illusion of depth, while the earphones enabled the user to tell which direction a sound was coming from. The chairs vibrated and shifted, increasing the illusion of movement. Bond had almost felt the joystick in his hand through the sensing glove that controlled the virtual spaceship.

The dogfight in space had been him and Q against Mitchell and Stone. He hadn’t believed Q at the airport months ago, when his Quartermaster had claimed to be a pilot, but — Q had proved himself during the game. Q had excellent reflexes and a feel for flying. The pair of them had shot down Mitchell and Stone several times. When Bond had switched out with Matthews, she’d taken a bit to get up to speed with the controls, with Mitchell and Stone each scoring hits on her until Q took them out. Then Matthews had paired with Q and they’d gone after the other two and pounded them mercilessly.

All too soon, their time was up. Mitchell and Stone were talking excitedly about the game with Matthews, while Q looked around. Looking for him? Bond pushed off from the wall, and started toward Q, only to pull himself up short when Q spotted the developers and went over to talk to them.

Bond gritted his teeth and faded back once more, allowing his Quartermaster time to speak with the developers. He kept his eye on the little group. Q waved off Mitchell and Stone, saying he’d catch up with them later.

Matthews was still grinning. Bond beckoned her over. “Go on, I’ll keep watch. I know you want to talk to Mitchell and Stone about the game. Q is going to be busy for a while picking the developers brains. We can switch off later.”

“If you’re sure?” Matthews bounced on the balls of her feet as he nodded. “Yes! Thank you!”

Bond watched, giving his head a shake, as she skipped off after Mitchell and Stone. Then he leaned back against the wall, watching Q. He was sure that he’d have to drag Q away from the developers. From the speculative look on his Quartermaster’s face, he suspected that Q would be building a similar virtual reality device as soon as they were back at MI6.

 

~~~~

 

The rest of the convention went smoothly. Q spent time with Mitchell and Stone, and Matthews was having fun with the assignment. The last Bond had seen of her, she’d dyed her skin blue, donned a white wig, and sported antennae. He had no idea what she was supposed to be.

Matthews had the watch at this final convention party, while he prowled around, making sure there were no threats to Q. He stopped abruptly when Stone stepped in front of him. He stared at the man who was sleeping with his Quartermaster, keeping his face blank. Working together to find Matthews had gone a long way towards accepting Stone — but that didn't mean Bond had to like the man.

Stone studied him with a knowing look in his deep blue eyes. “Andrew thinks you don't want him. I think you do.”

“What do you know or care about it?” He had to rein in his snarling temper. What the hell did Stone know of his relationship with his Quartermaster?

“He wants you, too.” Then Stone’s eyes widened in realization and he smirked. “That surprises you.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Stone shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the chill in Bond’s voice. “Maybe not. But I've come to care about Andrew. As a friend if nothing else, I'd like to see him happy.”

Was he making Q unhappy? Bond considered all of their interactions since the night Q had rejected him. He winced, suddenly able to see how the tentative attempts to bridge the gap between them, while he kept pushing Q away — until he succeeded, and Q stayed away.

Stone was still watching him.

Bond nodded. “All right. I'll consider what you've told me.”

A smile of satisfaction spread across Stone’s face. “Good. I hope everything works out for you two.” With that, Stone turned and left.

Bond stared after him. Q liked tea. Perhaps he could leave a box of various blends on Q's desk. See if Q was willing to consider a relationship after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication. Feel free to stop in to say hi - you can find me on Tumblr at leavesdancing.tumblr.com.


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